


Horrible Waiting Room Services

by thecutestprince



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, M/M, Probably a oneshot, maybe two chapters, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:58:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2579129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecutestprince/pseuds/thecutestprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The doors to the waiting room slid open, and Jean's head perked up like a puppy anxiously waiting for his owner to return. In this case, he was waiting for a doctor to pump his stomach. It wasn't a doctor entering the room, though, and so the gleam in his eyes disappeared and he frowned in disappointment. It was just some kid in a zombie costume. Some kid who also really needed attending to.</p>
<p>(nothing nsfw, so far anyways. maybe a one-shot, maybe two chapters long, i haven't decided. definitely a drabble, definitely late for halloween, definitely awful.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horrible Waiting Room Services

The hospital's waiting room was completely empty. It was silent for the most part; the only sounds heard were the light chatting of the nurses across the hallway, the sounds of the news playing on an old television, the occasional squeaking of a cart followed by soft footsteps, and the muffled sound of traffic outside. There were four rows of chairs in the room, Jean sitting in the only one occupied. Magazines were set on a table under the television, but Jean had no desire to walk up and get one. He sighed deeply and let his head hang back.

No one wanted to be stuck in a hospital waiting room on Halloween night. And yet, there he was, exerting all his energy into keeping in the contents of his stomach. It'd been fifteen minutes, and he hadn't been attended to. Throughout that time frame, he'd texted Connie and Eren twenty times each, but neither responded to him. Hell, they were probably too drunk to even bother to check their phones. No, how about, they were too busy partying it up to offer to keep Jean company. All they did was drop him off, call him a “giant piss baby horse face”, and then drive off. They could have offered to stay with him while he waited. Granted, he would have said no, that they could go back and party, but they could've offered! They could have shown some kind of sympathy. Fuck it, whatever. His friends were the worst when their minds were stuck on booze, boobs, and second base. This was something he very well knew, but he was still angry at them for being such fuckhea-

His stomach twisted and gurgled unpleasantly, causing the color to drain from his face. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and leaned forward, hovering out of his seat and ready to dart to he the bathroom if needed. He kept pressure on his stomach, hoping it would somehow help. When he was sure his food would not exit through either end, he sat back down and pressed his clammy hands against his cold face.

'Someone please come here, give me medicine. Fuck, pump my stomach if you have to. Anything to make me feel better, anything to get me out of here.' He rocked back and forth in his seat, hands pressed against his stomach.

The doors to the waiting room slid open, and Jean's head perked up like a puppy anxiously waiting for his owner to return. In this case, he was waiting for a doctor to pump his stomach. It wasn't a doctor entering the room, though, and so the gleam in his eyes disappeared and he frowned in disappointment. It was just some kid in a zombie costume. Some kid who also really needed attending to. He was holding a small, makeshift ice pack against the right side of his face and Jean noticed that every step the guy took was a very dizzy, cautious step, ironically matching that of a zombie. He prepared himself in case he had to run forward and catch the guy in his arms. But he made it to a seat just fine, taking the chair facing Jean, diagonal to his. He sat down as slowly as possible, but even that seemed to cause pain to him. He winced and pulled the ice pack away from his eye for a second, and in that brief moment, Jean saw red and purple swollen skin.

'Jesus Christ,' Jean thought to himself, glancing his eyes away. Though he tried to avoid looking at him, curiosity got the best of him. He saw that the guy's cheek was swollen, and there might have been a bit of dried blood around his mouth and chin. Jean's face twisted in pain, not a response to his stomach's grumbling, but just through imagining what the guy was going through.

'God dammit.' The more he looked at him, the sorrier he felt. They were both alone in the gloomy interior of the silent waiting room. He'd just been thinking about how he wanted company. Maybe this guy felt the same way? Normally, Jean would rather avoid talking to people he didn't really know. But it was nearing midnight, Halloween was practically over, and if he could do something to make it not so shitty for him, or at least for the other guy, striking up a conversation wouldn't hurt.

It had nothing to do with how adorable the guy was. No, Jean could not admit that to himself.

“What happened?” He asked the most obvious question, but the easiest to respond to. The other guy probably didn't expect Jean to talk to him; he blinked up at him in wide-eyed surprise. Jean thought he looked cute, actually, like a startled deer. His freckled cheeks (well, the one he could fully see) contributed to that, somehow. And he was smiling sheepishly, his eyes were a soft brown color, practically sparkling in the shitty lighting of the hospital's waiting room...

'Oh wow...'

The guy used his free hand to anxiously rub the side of his neck. “I, uh, I got punched in the face. I mean, well, obviously!” He giggled nervously, though the sudden action seemed to hurt him a bit. His face twitched in pain, but he quickly hid it with a goofy grin. Jean smiled back at him.

“How'd you get punched in the face? You don't seem like you'd start a fight.” Jean was turning his body to face him, and the other did the same as he started to speak.

“Oh, no, of course not! I was working in a haunted, the one by Fourth Avenue?”

“Oh, hey, I went to that one earlier.”

“I know, I saw you.” He stopped himself, smiling awkwardly. “I mean, gosh that's weird. I just, I saw you there, it was definitely a coincidence, I wasn't looking _specifically_ for you.”

“Of course,” Jean said with a smirk. “Anyways, the black eye?”

“Right. I was working in the haunted house, popping out and scaring people in my one-hundred percent authentic bargain brand costume, and I guess this guy got a bit too scared? He punched me right in the face, and I hit the back of my head on a wall, and maybe I got a concussion? I don't know, I could still be very concussed right now. What day is it?”

“Halloween.”

“Yes, okay. That's October thirtieth?”

Jean successfully kept himself from laughing. “Thirty-first.” The guy's eyes went wide, and he was smiling nervously again.

“Pfft, right right. I forgot October was one of those months,” he said shyly, looking down at his make-up smeared knuckles. Some sort of realization hit him, and he looked up at Jean again.

“I'm Marco, by the way.”

“Jean,” he said, and he was suddenly very glad he knew the guy's name. He was suddenly very glad that he and Marco were edging past the pair-of-strangers-in-a-hospital-waiting-room stage.

“Sooo, Jean, why are _you_ here?”

Jean scowled and leaned back against his chair. “Dunno. I think it was something I ate, because my stomach hurts real bad and I'm in this constant state of wondering: will I puke, or is this coming out the other end?”

Marco laughed at Jean's complete honesty and lack of embarrassment. Jean felt his mouth tug into a proud smile. The happy feeling was cut short when a wave of nausea passed through him, swirling in his stomach. He grabbed a fistful of his shirt and leaned forward, shutting his eyes tightly. Once it passed, he exhaled and sat back up. Marco stared at him worriedly as he pressed his hands against his cheeks.

“Are you...?”

“Not really. But there's nothing I can do except wait another ten minutes. After that, I'm leaving to another hospital.”

Marco frowned, looking at his hands again. After a few moments, he looked up at Jean again.

“So, what are you supposed to be?”

“Huh?”

Marco motioned at Jean's appearance. “Like, your costume. What are you dressed up as?”

Jean looked down at himself. He thought that it was kind of obvious. The brown vest, the white button up, the tight fitting khakis, the red handkerchief. The cowboy hat next to him, the cowboy boots he wore. He was obviously some sort of magician.

“I'm a cowboy. I thought it'd be a little obvious, although, I _am_ missing my broomstick horse.”

“Oh, yeah. See, that's why I wasn't so sure. I didn't see your trusty stead anywhere.”

Jean smirked. “Well, either way, it was a bad decision to dress up like this.”

“Why?”

“My friends say I look more like a horse than a cowboy.”

Marco examined Jean's face and then burst out laughing. Jean felt his cheeks flare up. Did he really have a horse face? All those times spent in front of his mirror, staring at his features, reassuring himself that he didn't look anything like a horse. Was he fooling himself the entire time? He found himself pouting as Marco covered his grinning lips with his make-up smeared hand.

“I don't think you look like a horse,” he reassured him, though the tone in his voice hinted at a giggle.

“Whatever...”

“No really! You're really cute, honest!” And it was Jean's turn to laugh. Why was he laughing? Was he laughing because he didn't believe Marco? Was he just trying to laugh the compliment off? Or was he just so nervous, left without anything to say, that the only thing he could find to do was laugh? That sounds like it. Marco picked up on Jean's uneasiness and looked away with a sheepish look on his face.

“I'm sorry. I think I really am concussed, because I didn't filter my thoughts, and so I embarrassed you.” The sincerity in his voice astonished Jean, even made him feel a bit bad. He laughed again, shaking his head.

“It's fine,” he said with a small smile. “You're cute, too.”

And now Marco was looking at him, goofy grin and all. What the fuck was going on? Was Jean honestly flirting with Marco? He knew this guy for ten minutes, maybe, and so far, he'd seen the worst of him. He'd seen him with a black eye and swollen cheek, and he'd seen him when he was loopy and silly and- and he was still incredibly cute. On top of that, Marco had seen him almost-puke.

'I'm going to try really hard not to puke.' This was already something he had in mind before, but now, he had someone to be embarrassed in front of.

“Maybe you should lie down,” Jean said when he found the courage to speak up. “If you really are concussed, you should try to rest as much as possible.”

Marco looked around, maybe for a couch or something. “There's not really anything to rest on...” He trailed off when he noticed Jean patting his lap. “Oh, no, I can't-”

“Yes you can,” Jean sighed as he got out of his seat. He sat down a chair away from Jean, then pat his lap again. Marco gave him a grateful look and slowly lowered himself so that the back of his head rested on Jean's thigh. Once he was comfortable, he looked up at Jean, and Jean could hardly stop himself from bending down and kissing him.

'He probably wouldn't mind,' Jean thought to himself, darting his eyes away. 'He thinks I'm cute...'

When he looked back at Marco, he was closing his eyes. Jean quickly flicked him on the forehead.

“Ow!”

“Don't fall asleep.”

“I wasn't! I was just resting my eyes,” Marco complained, covering the spot on his forehead with the back of his hand. Jean rolled his eyes.

“I tell myself that all the time, and I end up falling asleep.” Jean's fingers found their way into Marco's small mess of brown hair, and he was suddenly playing with his hair. Marco's eyes drooped lazily, but he blinked them awake and looked up at Jean.

“Nn, it's you who's making me sleepy,” Marco complained, using his free hand to snatch Jean's hand out of his hair. Their fingers intertwined, an action that Marco initiated but Jean went along with willingly. It was making him incredibly anxious, but Marco wasn't even phased. No nervousness had set into him, at least not enough to stop him from leading Jean's hand to his lips and giving it a light peck.

Jean was again left speechless, Marco again realized a bit too late what he'd done, and an awkward silence settled between them. Marco let go of Jean's hand slowly, giving him an apologetic smile.

“I'm sorry. I just don't realize that-”

“Shhhh,” Jean whispered, covering Marco's lips with his hand. “If you ruin this moment by licking my fingers, I will give you another concussion.

“Aw,” he whined, his voice muffled by Jean's hand. “I was thinking about it.”

They stayed that way for what felt like hours, but really, it was ten minutes. It wasn't long before Jean was playing with Marco's hair again, and Marco tried his best to stay awake, but was very groggy the entire time. Jean would ask him things to keep him alert, and his responses were always slurred, sometimes followed by a yawn. And, maybe it was all in Jean's head, but there was definitely some flirting here and there. Bold comments, knowing looks, sexual frustration Marco was obviously oblivious to. Jean lost count of how many times he'd flicked him in the head.

In silent moments, the realization of how infatuated he was over Marco would hit him like a cold slap of wind. He ignored it as much as he ignored the twisting feeling in his stomach, but both were taking a great toll on him. There was something he had to do, to take this all a bit further.

“What are you doing after this?” Jean asked. Marco blinked the dreary feeling from his eyes.

“Going home, I guess.”

“You live alone?”

“Yeah. Maybe I should stay here though, you know, to have people check on me?”

“I'll check on you,” Jean said, though only half of him was joking. The other half definitely wouldn't mind accompanying him home, if Marco wasn't weirded out by the idea.

Marco looked up at him and did not look weirded out at all. “Will you?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you don't find it weird that some stranger is inviting himself over to your house. I _could_ be an ax murderer.”

“Are you an ax murderer?” Marco asked as seriously as he could. Jean laughed and placed his hand over his good eye.

“Yes.”

“Oh, darn!” he laughed. “Can't date an ax murderer.”

'Can't date an ax murderer. Can't date an ax murderer.' He repeated it over and over in his head, smiling as wide as he could with no worry of Marco seeing him. Marco was, at the very least, _interested_ in Jean.

Holy shit.

“Sorry,” Marco said after Jean's small moment of silence for himself. “Filter.”

“It's fine. It's called _flirting_. Besides, you could date an ax murderer. It's a possibility.”

Marco shook his head to get Jean's hand off of his eye. “Oh, is it?”

“The decision is up to you entirely,” Jean said, just as a nurse walked in.

“Jean Kirschtein?”

Jean looked up at the nurse who called his name. He waved, then pointed at the sleepy Marco on his lap. “It's fine, you can check him first. I feel like possible concussions are more important that stomachaches.”

“No, you should go. You've been waiting longer,” Marco whispered. Jean shook his head.

“It's fine, really. You go make sure you didn't break your face, and I'll wait here, and after... afterwards we can figure out if you'd date an ax-murderer.”

Marco grinned at him before slowly getting up. He began to make his way towards the nurse, but turned around before leaving and added, “Personally, I prefer horse-faced cowboys over ax-murderers.”

Jean was supposed to respond with something as equally witty, maybe something sarcastic, but Marco left, succeeding in leaving him speechless once more that night.

His phone vibrated. But this time, he was the one who couldn't bother to read the text.

 

**Author's Note:**

> eHHH i haven't decided if i'll add a second chapter to this. i could definitely add more to this but, we'll see. for now, i have released my jeanmarco feelings onto this drabble, and i hope it's helped you do the same~


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